âzyungâlh, melhekh (lover, king)
by HellieEllie
Summary: Thorin/OC, Pre-Hobbit. Love, last goodbyes and promises unable to be kept.


The low din of the pub beneath Ella's small apartment had died down for the evening. A long day of serving raucous patrons at the Red Boar was over, and she was thankful for what peace could be found by candlelight with her nose in a book. That peace, however, was disturbed by a light rasping at the door.

"Just a moment," she called out, wrapping herself in a dressing gown as she scrambled out of bed. She'd expected, or rather hoped, to see that it was him, as no one else should be wanting to see her at such an hour. A smile spread across her face as she opened the door. He stood in the doorway with a grim expression written on his dark and stormy face. Something troubled him, as it had for some time. She recognized the look, but was afraid to confront what might be the cause.

"Thorin, dear, what brings you?" she questioned, fussing with her dressing gown and hair, thinking she must look a mess.

"May I come in?" he asked, with a small, forced smile. He needed to speak to her desperately, and in his stubbornness, was afraid that he had waited too long.

"Of course, of course, I'm sorry," she took a gloved hand and lead him inside, motioning to a bench at the foot of the bed where they could sit. Her apartment was small but open, simply furnished, and it suited her needs perfectly. The bed was ample size and comfortable, covered with colorful blankets that she'd sewn and knitted. To the left was a small kitchen, with room for two, and a single chair near the entrance and fireplace. The fire had died out, but the warmth remained.

Thorin looked around the sparse flat, decorated in such a simple and homely fashion. She worked so hard for what seemed to him to be so little. A barmaid in a scummy trade town, serving men and dwarves alike. She deserved so much more than this, he thought.

"You look tired," she remarked casually, helping him out of his long fur overcoat, and tugging at his gloves to remove them. "Tea?" she offered, continuing to fuss about in an effort to make him comfortable. _Ever serving others,_ he thought.

"Ella," he said in a low commanding tone, motioning for her to take a seat next to him, "please."

She stopped fidgeting and stood before him where he sat, defying the request for a moment. With a sly smile, she slowly ran her fingers down the side of his face, pushing a long dark curl back behind his shoulder. His look was so stern, as it often had been. But she always took much pleasure in being able to wrench a smile out of him from time to time. Ella was one of only a few who could reliably do so.

In fact, she'd made it a personal mission when they first met at the Red Boar, many months earlier. He'd stopped in the town for a time, intending to do some transient work as a smith. But the stay ended up being longer than expected, making him a regular to the pub. He would darken a corner of the room, and Ella would always be certain to see to him. A lively dwarven lass, Ella was a bright light amongst a dark place, her laughter always warm and given freely. Although she was friendly with many patrons in the pub, none was so intriguing to her as Thorin. Though she did not know his name at the time, or the legacy that it held. No one in the town knew who he was, and he preferred it that way.

"So tell me, love, what is responsible for this grey cloud about you today?" she asked, in her sweet and charming manner, dropping her hands onto his shoulders. He sighed and grabbed her waist, pulling her close to him, attempting to avoid the question. Gently, she kissed his thin lips, hoping to warm this icy mood, before pulling away abruptly. He was there for a reason, and she knew it must be for more than a late night dalliance.

He looked down, breaking eye contact as he always did when there was something difficult to say, and swallowed hard. Try as he might to hide his emotions, she'd learned to read him like a book.

"Please sit with me, Ella."

She heeded his request and sat, taking his hands in hers, waiting patiently for him to find the words. He didn't know where to begin. He'd kept so much from her in the beginning, not because he didn't trust her, but rather out of fear and self doubt. It had taken a long time for him to open up enough to give her his true name, with all that it meant. Shocking as it was at the time, she understood the reasons and despite reservations, hadn't turned him away. She was too far gone in love, despite the fact that their paths could not have been more different. Thorin was raised as heir to the throne of Erebor, son of kings. His youth was spent in all the wealth and glory of the mountain, a home which he'd never imagined having to flee. But when the dragon came, it shattered his world in unimaginable ways. Ella was young at the time and only faintly remembered Erebor, as her family were traders that traveled often between Dale and outlying cities. She visited the lonely mountain on occasion as a child, but did not have a home there like so many of her kin. In the end, it was what saved her life, as she was not there the day the city fell. Her father, however, had gone ahead and reached Dale before she and her mother. He perished in the blaze that overwhelmed the city. Devastated, Ella's mother was tasked with raising her alone, travelling among cities of Men as a merchant and crafter. When her mother passed away a few years earlier, Ella was left to fend for herself alone and worked hard to earn her keep. She was resourceful and savvy, a trait she gained from both parents and years of dealing in trade.

"This is difficult to explain. Please forgive me," he said in a troubled voice, that sounded unlike his own.

"What is it? Just tell me." she begged, beginning to feel more anxious at what was haunting his mind this evening. After a moment, he summoned the strength to meet her blue eyes with his own.

"I've spoken with Balin and have come to a decision. The signs have all been pointing home, Ella. It is time to return to Erebor, and take back our homeland," he began to find himself and speak with true passion. A natural leader, he had experience rallying his people in battle. But this was an entirely different sort of battle, one of his heart.

"I don't understand, Thorin," she paused for a moment trailing off, "The city is lost. The dragon…"

"The beast has not been seen nor heard from in many years. That filth may well be dead, and we must take this chance to reclaim what is ours," he declared, pulling her closer to him.

"Ours?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow skeptically and pulling back. "Nothing in that mountain belongs to me."

Thorin was shocked for a moment at the plain spoken chill of her response. He knew she wasn't the type to hold back the truth of her feelings, but the bluntness of the claim cut him like a dull knife. Determined to make her understand, he looked at her longingly, searching for a way to explain.

"The wealth of the mountain was stolen from me once, and I intend to reclaim it… Ella, I would give you anything that you wanted. If you would be by my side," he emphasised with a pause, "as my wife and queen of our people."

Shocked, she pulled away abruptly and bolted up from her seat. "Queen? Of Erebor? Don't be absurd."

Her skin flushed and she rubbed her face in her hands, not knowing where to look, ashamed that she must have hurt him. The proposal caught her off guard and all of her insecurities showed plainly in the response. She'd worried that he might leave some day, but not like this. Even before she knew his true name and the history it held, she loved him, in all of his strength, determination and cold brooding, just the same. But the burden of this legacy, she feared, might be too much to take on.

"Thorin. I'm sorry. I know what this means to you. Or… I can imagine, what it means. Erebor is your legacy… your family….," she stumbled for words, as painful as they may be, "but it is not mine. I don't want to rule over anything. I'm not made for it. I'm a barmaid for goodness sake!"

Gritting his teeth, Thorin shook his head and grabbed her hand, pulling her back close to him again. She didn't resist but avoided eye contact for a moment, instead focusing on the sleeve of his shirt, tracing down the seam with her fingers, trying to calm herself.

"No," he emphasised, "you are so much more than that. I can give you…"

She interrupted before he could continue, grabbing hold of his shoulders, wanting to shake him but resisting the urge. "What do you think you can give me? What in this world do you think I want that is more than what I already have in front of me?"

Taken aback by her words, he read the exasperation in her face. He hated to see her so distressed, and to be the one responsible. Opening his mouth to speak, his response was interrupted by a passionate kiss. Her lips crashed against his desperately. They felt soft, full and familiar. After a moment, she peeled away slowly, hoping that she'd shaken him awake from this terrible fantasy.

"Ella," he swallowed hard again, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I love you completely. Will you not be my wife?"

"I would. Of course I would. But is this the price I must pay for it? That you must first leave me alone and face this folly!"

"It is not folly," he gritted, rising from his seat, temper beginning to flare. "Our people look to me to rebuild a kingdom. There is no other way. The decision is made, Ella. I must do this. I have no choice."

"You always have a choice!" she pushed back at him, voice beginning to shake.

Heart breaking, he stormed toward the door, grabbing his gloves and coat. He couldn't bear to look at her any longer. If Ella wouldn't support him, then he must be on his own, as he'd been for so many years. And maybe it was better that way, the stubborn thought flashed across his mind. The only folly he feared, was to dare to fall in love. But before he could open the door, Ella latched onto his arm.

"Please, âzyungâlh (lover), please," she begged. Her small hands gripped his forearm, holding him in place. With a sigh he turned away from the door, refusing to look at her, but not making an effort to break away. It was one of his weaknesses, he could never look someone in the eye when angry with them. She knew he couldn't, and worked her way around forcing him to meet her face. This was a war she couldn't win. He was determined to go, and he would. But she couldn't let him leave this way, in anger. With resignation, she gently wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Breathing heavily she rested for a moment, taking in his familiar scent, running her fingers delicately along his back. After a moment, he resigned to her embrace, dropping his coat to the floor and stroking her long auburn curls.

Muffled in his chest, she plead, "Just don't leave angry with me, love. No matter what you must do, just don't leave angry with me. I could not bear it."

Gently he pulled back to see her face again. Her blue eyes were reddening and starting to brim with tears. He sighed and wiped her cheek, holding her soft, rounded face in his hands. Disappointment showed in his furrowed brow. This isn't what he'd hoped for in visiting this evening, though he should have expected it. She'd resigned to a simple life, one that she'd built and grown fond of. Offering her the world might not even be a promise that he could keep, despite his greatest effort. Maybe it was folly, but it was the only choice he would make. It meant more to him than anything. The dream of home, and of sharing it with Ella would give him strength, despite her doubts.

"Âzyungâlh," she whispered in a desperate, breathy voice, lips parted.

The single word in Khuzdul was more meaningful than a thousand words spoken in the common tongue. It represented a deep and intimate trust between them, and he could not resist or abandon her when she invoked it. Royal birth and lineage meant nothing in comparison this feeling.

He slowly ran his thumb across her soft, full lips and she pressed into his fingers, closing her eyes. Meeting her lips with his own, he kissed her in his slow and firm way, lacing his hands in the curls of her hair. She loved the warm, familiar taste of him, and the rough feel of his beard against her skin. Their motions quickly locked into step as he wrapped his arms around her and she tugged at the laces of his shirt. The pair pulled apart after a moment and met eyes, but nothing else needed to be said.

Deftly she pushed at the soft fabric and pulled it up over his head. She turned her attention to the laces of his trousers with a frantic pace, as if he would disappear at any moment if she didn't have him immediately. Thorin gently guided her hands away. If this would be goodbye, he wanted to drink it in slowly, not gobble her up like a starving man with an overly sweet dessert. Carefully he untied the waist of her dressing gown, pushing it aside and watching it fall to the ground. He stood for a moment with his hands at her soft waist, admiring her figure through the thin weave of the nightgown. It was nearly transparent in the soft light. Brushing the straps away, she wiggled out of the fabric as it fell and circled around her feet. With a sad smile, she lifted to her toes to meet his lips again. Pressed together, the pair stumbled across the room and into the bed. The lovers spent the night tangled in passionate embrace, sealing a wordless promise.

Thorin woke early in the morning sunlight, Ella curled into him in a clutching embrace of sleep. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, wishing that he didn't have to face the day. _What if,_ he thought.

What if he really was the man she'd met months ago? A nobody with no home, no name. Just a simple tradesman with little responsibility to anyone other than himself. She would love him nonetheless. They would marry, lead a simple life. There was a part of his heart that wished he could be the type of man to find happiness in such a future. But that was not his fate. It was not a path he could take. To forsake the responsibility of his bloodline. An heir of Durin, he was a son of kings, destined to be a king in his own right.

Quickly he snuck out of bed and gathered his things, Ella still comfortable in her sleep. Thankful she was not easily woken, Thorin kissed her forehead softly. Afraid he might lose his resolve if forced to say goodbye again, he departed quietly.

Ella woke some time later, pawing the bedsheets as she sleepily searched for her lover, still in a hazy cloud.

"Thorin?" she asked the empty room. "Thorin!"

Stumbling out of bed frantically, Ella sighed and began to weep freely, slumping back down on the edge of the bed they had shared only hours earlier. It hadn't been just a dream. Eyes blurry with tears, she noticed a glint of light on the bedside table. One of Thorin's rings sat atop a note written on parchment, in Khuzdul. She picked up the thick silver band, marked with Dwarven runes along one side. He'd worn it always, and she'd asked him about it when they first met, commenting that it was nicely made. It was far too large for any of her fingers, but she clutched it tightly in her palm.

Picking up the note, she read.

_My beloved Ella,_

_I'm sorry that I must leave you for a time. I will send for you once we have reached our destination. Please know that I love you more than words can express. I will see you again and show the truth of every promise I've made. _

_Hold fast, my love._

_-T_

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><p><em>[Thanks for reading! I have a second part (post-BOFA) planned, so I hope to return to the story. Please feel free to review.]<em>


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